After All This Time
by Yr Alban
Summary: -Oneshot- She shakes her head, and her breath catches. "I don't want to be in love with you," she tells him, and he laughs sadly, because it's the truth and the lie all rolled into one sentence, and she sighs because what else did she expect from him?


_Square Enix owns Final Fantasy VII. I do not._

_I hope you enjoy this, though. _

oOo

_One of the hardest things in live is having words in your heart that you cannot utter._

oOo

When she looks up, he knows.

It's not the out-of-place shine in her eyes or the broken look on her face that makes him suddenly understand.

It's how she holds herself. He knows because it's the _exact_ same way he holds himself.

She's about to break.

He wonders why it took so long.

He knows that it's over.

There's no pretending now, and he wonders if there ever was, because she _always_ knew when he left for the church and he always knew when she left for Gongaga.

"I'm going," she says, and the way she says it doesn't hurt as much as he thinks it should, and the way she blinks back the tears does hurt more than he thinks it should, because she's upset and he's always been able to comfort but _not this time_.

"I know," he replies, and the way his throat clenches around the words doesn't hurt as much as he knows it should, and the way she stands there looking as if she's about to break into thousands of irretrievable pieces hurts much more than he wants it to.

"I'm sorry," she informs him, and they both know it's killing her to do this, but she won't - _can't_ - stop now, because if she does, she'll never be able to leave.

So, he nods, and she gets to her feet with her ever-present grace, and they meet each others eyes. He doesn't beg her to stay and she doesn't beg him to come with her. They know it's better this way, that the pain will fester until they're completely numb to it.

"I'll always be here," he promises, and she nods and doesn't speak, because what has she got to say? He knows why and she knows why, and everybody was waiting for this to happen, it was just the _when _and _where_ that they didn't know.

He wraps his arms around her, and she buries her head in his chest, and neither of them speak, because what have they got to say that they don't already know?

He lets go of her, then, and moves away for her to go by. She wishes he didn't, but is glad he does, because then it's real and from there she knows there is no going back. "I'll miss you," she swears, and it's almost her pleading to keep her and love her and comfort her, but it's not.

"Same," he agrees, and then she's walking smoothly to the door, as if she were just going to the store and she'll be back in half an hour, as if she _isn't_ stumbling and crying on the inside.

The door swings shut behind her with a certain air of finality, and it's the barrier between him and her. Either of them could reach out and open the door and change the future, but they don't, because they know if they did they were just stalling.

So, she leaves, and her heart is breaking while she walks away, and she doesn't want to - _Oh God, she doesn't want to _- but she does and that's that.

She finds herself by the sword, and she can't quite remember how she got there, but her shoes are full of rocks and sand and her throat is sore from dehydration and swollen from tears.

With a quivering hand, she touches the weather-beaten sword, and she swears she hears her heart-breaking, because it's _his_ and _he's_ gone and never coming back, no matter how much she pleads and begs.

"It's unhealthy to be that attatched to an inimate object," _he_ says, and she jumps from the sound of _his_ voice, broken heart galloping unevenly. She can see _him_ and _he_'s grinning and laughing, but there's something so broken about _him _as well, something she can't place.

"I know," she snaps, because that's how it is between them, and they don't expect anything less, so why shouldn't they be like this?

_He_ chuckles, and a hand - _like the breeze_ - ruffles her hair, and she scowls because it's so undeniably _him_ that she wants to cry and scream and laugh all at the same time.

"I left him," she informs _him_, and _he_ nods, _he_ understands what it's like leaving people they love.

"I know," _he_ murmurs, _his_ breath tickling the baby fine hairs at the back of her neck, and she can feel _him_ there like the air and the sky and the rusty sword before her.

She shakes her head, and her breath catches. "I don't want to be in love with you," she tells him, and _he_ laughs sadly, because it's the truth and the lie all rolled into one sentence, and she sighs because what else did she expect from _him_?

"Too bad, babe," _he _ retorts, and _his_ lips brush against the back of her bare neck, and she shivers and feels foolish and young and _fifteen_, because that was who she was with _him_, and that will never change.

"I still miss you," she breathes, and now, _now_, she can feel _him_ pause and _his_ breath catch. This is the untouched subject that no one speaks of, and here she is ripping it open like it's a box of chocolate.

_He_ spins her around, and crimson meets azure, and it's _so_ right it's wrong. _He's _broken and so is she, but it's not the same, because _he_ is fixable, and she is gone, barely a memory of the fierce girl she once was.

"I'm always here. I'm not going anywhere," _he_ swears and she wants to believe _him_, but she just _can't_ - _won't _- and it's back to the beginning, with nothing to their names and only the weapons at their sides.

"Yes, you are. You have to leave soon, don't lie," she spits, and it's the truth that they don't say and the lie that they ignore. She's too far gone, she's about to break, and it hurts, because she lost a perfectly good thing for this.

But, with a sudden note of urgency added to _his_ charmingly handsome features, _he_ shakes _his_ head rapidly. "No, no, no, I don't. I'm not leaving you, ever, not for anything or anybody," _he_ says, and she tries to believe this lie that is so closely woven with the truth that it is nearly indistinguishable to tell the difference, but she can't find the strength.

Because _he's_ slipping, she can feel _him_ fading, and she just can't lose the two men she loves most in her life in the same day, so she tries to leave before _he_ can, but it just won't work, because she won't - _can't_ - and she's never tried to leave _him_ before now.

"I love you," she reminds him, a bitter note to her usual sweet and soft voice, and it's so out of place that _he _blinks.

"I love you, too," _he_ replies instantly, and she can feel the tears and the whole impossibility of their love weighing down on her, and she blinks - _nononononoNO! _- and then _he's_ gone, gone and not coming back, and no, _he's_ not just around the corner or back at the bar where she belongs, _he's_ gone in the way that she only sees him in her dreams and these painful illusions, and everythings just making it worse.

Like glass, she shatters.

She's crying and she can't - _won't_ - stop and everythings just coming out now, and she won't - _can't -_ stop the screaming.

Arms encircle her, and it's home, he smells like windy roads and cleaning supplies and that shampoo she always buys, and she _fucking _hates it.

Because _he _doesn't smell like gas and icy wind and cleaning supplies, _he_ smells like rain and blood and sweat and the sweetest apple, and she hates that _he's_ not here, and hates that her best friend is, even though she loves them equally.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, and she doesn't make him stop, because she knows she can't just like he knows it's not his fault, and he doesn't mean letting her leave, he means _everything_.

Letting _him_ die, not that she blames him at all.

Letting _her_ die, not that anyone blames him.

Letting them die, and they can only blame themselves for that, for not trying and giving up so easily, for being in love with people that could never have them.

"I'm coming home," she tells him, and she knows she doesn't have to, because she was going to anyway, it was only a matter of time before she broke and she'd need him for that.

"I'm glad," he says, and it's the truth, she can see it in his eyes.

They embrace, and they do not pull away for a long moment, because they need this more than anything, they need to feel loved and warmth and cared about. They don't have that anymore, not after _she_ died.

And, then, he pulls away and she can see the resolution in his eyes and she knows that this is the beginning of something, something that they can't stop, because they need this more than anything.

She watches as he walks back to the waiting bike and she can almost see _him_, can almost see the arrogant walk and the tossled spike of hair, and she can almost pretend that _he's_ there and so is _she_ and life is how it should be because God knows _they_weren't supposed to go that early.

The engine starts with a purr that loudens to a deafening growl, like an enraged cat, and she can hear his words on the wind, and she can feel her hopes fall, and she knows that this is just the beginning.

"Be seeing you," she breathes, but it's not for him, it's for the one that she loved - _loves_ - and that was taken so viciously from her, and she won't say goodbye, because it's not goodbye.

Because saying goodbye was leaving, and leaving was forgetting, and she never wanted to forget _him_.

So, she sits behind him and lets the thrum of the bike and roar of the engine drown out her thoughts and feelings, until she's nothing and numb and there's not a single thing to bring her up or down.

"I love you," it's _his_ voice, it's carried to her in the wind, and it's a ghost of a memory, brushing against her, making her heart flutter and eyes squeeze shut.

For a brief moment, she sees _him_, not this friend, and she is elated, can't believe that this could be real - _because she knows it's not_.

Then, she blinks, and it's gone, gone just like _him_, and she knows it's coming to end, that she can't keep doing this to herself, no matter how much it feels good during, it always feels a lot worse afterwards, leaving a gaping hole only _he_ can fix.

"I love you, too," she murmurs back, and she lets the words get swept away by the wind and warped by the engine, but she doesn't have to care, because _he_ knows, _he_ always knew, and that's why it hurt so much to leave him.

Because _he_ always knows.

And she never does.

oOo

_How'd you like it? The HE in italics is... whoever you want it to be. They're dead, though, so yeah..  
I made it as a Aerith/Cloud/Tifa/Zack._

_Aerith = italic SHE.  
_Cloud = regular HE.  
Tifa = regular SHE.  
_Zack_ _= italic HE._

_Anyways, hoped you enjoyed. (:  
Revieww. (:  
Till next time,  
xoxo_

_xWhiteRainx_


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